Do You Smoke?
by blue red and grey
Summary: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and his partner Areshia travel Gunsmoke in what appears to be an endless chase for Vash the Stampede, cigarettes, and an understanding of each other and their different walks of life. OC, AU.


Author's Notes: So, I haven't touched fanfiction in years now, and I have to tell you I'm nervous about posting this here. I wrote this about a year ago, and by "this," I mean the bare bones of a story I had been roleplaying with a friend for years. This particular story focuses on Wolfwood in an alternate manga/anime hybrid universe where my (dun dun dun) original character is a Gung-ho Gun. While there may be Mary-Sue tendencies, I promise that's not my intention. And if any and all romance happens between the two, believe me, it's far, far down the road. This is just the beginning. So, please forgive me that it's so rough! It's just the beginning to get us adjusted to our settings, the theme, and our characters. Any and all Trigun characters don't belong to me, but Areshia and any other unfamiliar characters introduced are the product of my imagination.

So, thank you and hopefully you'll enjoy this first tidbit! If it's well-received, I'll pick it back up and continue writing. If not, oh well, that's life!

Chapter 1

"This heat will be the death of me," he thought bitterly. He gnashed the end of his cigarette angrily with his teeth as sweat rolled down his face and disappeared into the dirtied color of his shirt. Hazel eyes squinted behind his sunglasses against the harsh glare of the suns on the vast and somewhat bleak horizon. Sand rolled on as far as the eye could see, no relief in sight of their weary travels.

The arsenal was getting heavier each step. He would have stopped and rested by now, but his partner was relentless. For this he cast her a dark glare past a haze of smoke, her tiny frame trudging through the sand a little behind him. She always managed to have it her way. It was rather sickening, he mused, how very often it was, in fact, that he ended up watching her change the plans before him. He supposed it was better than listening to Legato, though. Anything was better than listening to Legato. "I'd rather dive into a pool full of rusty box knives than have to look at his fucking face," Nick grumpily thought.

Areshia's feet felt like lead, burning faintly within her ever-tightening shoes. She sensed the growing hostility of her partner, but she was beginning to care less and less as the heat bathed them in an uncomfortable blanket. Her shirt stuck to her back, moist with sweat. It was highly unpleasant. Yet they had both agreed to make it to May City by nightfall so they could find a hotel room. That seemed to be the theme of their days; endless travel and desperate searches for a hotel that would put them up for the night for what little money they had. Food sometimes crept its way into the itinerary, but it was few and too far between. They were both losing weight, and patience was soon following it.

The bickering began. "I thought you said May City was west," Areshia griped bitterly.

"It is," grunted Nick.

"Then where the fuck is it?"

"Are you always this bitchy or are you just menstruating?"

She hurled her bag down on the ground and came to a sudden halt, face contorting with anger. "You have no idea where the fuck May City is, do you!"

The Cross Punisher was dropped to the ground with just as much frustration. He seethed, gritting his teeth and glaring at her furiously, "The last time I checked, I've been doing this much longer than you, so why don't you get off my back, woman!"

"Piss off!"

"Real mature, Serenader."

Areshia reeled, turning her back on him and growling, "Of all of the murderers and con-artists I could have been paired with, I get stuck with you." He didn't bother to retort, rolling his eyes and silently sitting down, back leaned against the hard cross. Their petty arguments were beginning to become more frequent than the usual norm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beat up and soiled pack of cigarettes. He was running low, no thanks to the stress between him and his recently moody partner. Carefully, Nick slipped them back into his pocket and gave them a gentle pat with his hand. "We have a long way to go, so don't go anywhere," he thought bitterly.

Silence settled over them as Areshia squinted over the horizon. Slowly she turned, gleaning the landscape for any glimmer of hope, any signs of life. Nothing came. She settled down in the burning sand, wincing at first before taking it. Unbuttoning the cuffs of her shirt, she pushed them up past her elbows. Areshia had long since stuffed the blazer into her bag. The two exchanged silent glances.

"What now?" she asked.

Nick mulled the thought for a few quiet moments. "We don't really have much of a choice." A pause. "We have to keep going."

"But we don't know where we are," grumbled Areshia, her temper beginning to flare up again.

A heated look was shot her way. "If we keep going the direction we're going, we should be able to make it a little before sunsets." He began to clamber to his feet as she watched him with a scowl.

"You're so sure of yourself," Areshia quipped, "so I can't help but trust you." She held out her pale hand to him. He hesitated a moment before his much larger, calloused hand gripped the others and pulled her up to her feet in one swift motion. A small smile was flickered between them before they finally let go of each other. They dusted themselves off and picked their things up, becoming sluggish under the unforgiving suns. A collective sigh was shed and again, they began to stumble forward through the sand in silence. It was much too hot to argue anymore.

A dull roar was heard in the distance. Their heads both whipped around in the direction of the noise, ears listening intently. Neither of them budged as the noise became louder and louder. Finally, a truck was seen in the distance, ambling towards them and kicking up large clouds of dust and sand that evaporated into the wind. Their faces lit up.

"We're saved!" sang Nick. They began running towards the vehicle, waving their arms until the driver slowly pulled up next to them.

The back of the truck was spacious, allowing them to both stretch their legs out while they sat next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. Nick closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the wind sifting through his hair, causing it to fly askew about his exhausted features. It was nice. He leaned his head back against the frame of the truck, beginning to be pulled into the undertow of sleep. Peering down at the mass of auburn tresses, Nick coyly mumbled, "Serenader."

"Mmm?" she softly groaned, halfway asleep already despite the jarring bumps and incessant hum of the engine.

"May City _was_ west, after all."

"Go to Hell, Wolfwood."

As predicted, the suns were beginning to slowly climb their way through the ends of the sky, softly kissing the horizon when they arrived in May City. The driver accepted a charitable gift of Areshia's last pack of cigarettes, a small handful of cash, and a canteen of water before leaving them alone in the quiet street.

Gazing down the street, Nick sighed. "Hopefully we'll have a place to sleep tonight," he said. "I'm getting tired of sleeping in sand."

"Well, that makes two of us. Now lets go find a cheap hotel. And can we please pick one that doesn't have too many fleas?" Areshia snidely remarked.

"I swear you're bitching much more than usual recently. Seriously, is there something wrong?" Nick looked at her, frowning slightly. "Because if not, this pessimism is even a little much for me."

She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, tossing a stray piece of hair from her ivory features. "I'm fine," she snapped. "I just want a hot shower and a good night's rest before we begin our adventures again tomorrow."

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Nicholas had disliked the mission from the beginning, but now that it was finally upon them, it was now that he finally realized how much he truly did not want to go through with it. Yet there was no arguing with Legato, and the imminent rendezvous with the other Gung-ho Guns hung in the air like an unpleasant odor. Nick's jaw set at the thought of being in the company of his "co-workers." Areshia noticed the sudden change in posture and chewed the inside of her lip.

"Wolfwood?"

His eyes snapped over to her. "What?" he said.

"Are you ready?" she gently inquired. There was a slight hint of comfort in her voice. She understood the sentiment. He heaved a heavy sigh and raked a hand back through his raven hair.

"Yeah. Lets go."

The first two hotels were completely filled, but the third time was the charm. For a cheap pay of $$90, they were allowed to board in a run down, dusty room filled to the brim with cobwebs and the stale smell of the mattress that had seen a thousand sexual acts. The only things in the room were the rusty, iron framed bed, a mirror, and a severely trashed nightstand. Nick set his Cross Punisher down gently against a dirtied wall and collapsed on the squeaky bed. His back hit the rough bed and he could feel the springs jab against his spine. Nick grit his teeth and instinctively reached for his cigarettes.

Areshia surveyed the room while sitting on the floor, going through her things for more suitable sleep wear. A bug found its way on her now bare foot and she bristled violently before flicking it away, annoyed. "Maybe, just maybe," she sighed, "someday we'll be able to afford a nice place."

"Don't knock it," Nick growled. "We're lucky to have this, so be thankful."

"I am thankful!"

Nick rolled over on his side with his back turned to her. Areshia frowned but dismissed the ugly gesture. She pulled out a small handgun, setting it aside. Next came a blanket. With these two things, Areshia walked over to the bed and slowly sunk down beside Nick. She put the gun under the pillow, making sure the safety lock was on, and then spread the blanket out over them. Nick lifted his head and looked at the blanket, then her.

"You know, hotels provide us with blankets and everything."

"Yes, but I don't feel like catching some disease lying between the sheets. Do you know how unclean these things are?" She smoothed out some wrinkles and nestled into the fabric's warmth, sighing contentedly to finally be lying down.

"Okay, princess."

"I'm serious!"

Nicholas shifted and rolled onto his back, exhaling a long trail of smoke. He settled more into the bed, pulling the small blanket back so he could kick off his shoes. They fell heavily to the floor and his feet gasped in the cool air. He stretched his toes; small cracks clicking from his thrashed feet. He pulled the blanket over his feet and took another drag of his cigarette.

Wrinkling her nose, Areshia rolled over and looked at the nightstand. She pulled open the first drawer. A Bible lied within, greeting her morbidly with a tattered black cover. Tentatively she pulled it from its home, running her fingers slowly over the embossed words, "The Holy Bible." It felt foreign to her. She lied back and began skimming the thin pages, continuing to run her fingers over the fading ink. Nick watched her silent fascination with the Good Book.

"Most hotel rooms usually have a copy of this hiding somewhere, don't they?" Areshia looked at Nick.

"Well, yeah."

"Why is that?"

"Why are you asking _me_?"

"Because you're the priest in the room."

Oh. "Well, I imagine it would be comforting to some people. Sometimes it's the only tangible thing people can cling onto when everything has faded away."

His partner fell silent. Areshia silently looked at the book, eyes gazing harshly at the brilliant black letters. Without flinching, she slammed it shut and hugged it to her chest.

"It's nonsense to me. It feels so cold."

Nick studied her quietly. "Perhaps you haven't been in the right situation yet."

With that statement lingering in the air, she whirled her head towards him. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you haven't felt God's presence because you haven't needed it yet."

"What if there is no god? What if it's all an empty void? What then?"

A large cloud of cancerous smoke billowed from Nick's lips. "Then that's it."

"That's it?" Areshia turned towards him, sitting up now. "Could we as living creatures accept such a large concept, or are we doomed to believing in intangible things?"

Softly, "Is it really so intangible? If creatures such as Knives and Vash the Stampede roam the planet, then is it really so impossible for a deity to exist?"

Her eyebrows worked together in the middle and she sat against the wall, unconsciously fingering the worn pages. "No. No, it's not. But some days it's hard to swallow."

"Nobody said putting your faith in somebody was easy," he sighed, pulling the cigarette from his intoxicated lips. The ashes fell gently into the ashtray as the small red ember glowed feebly at the end of his addiction. The smell of the burning tobacco was entrancing and danced within their senses.

The itch began. Areshia reached for her pocket and remembered despairingly that she had given up her last bit of temporary relief to the driver. Her body craved the smooth taste. "Can you spare a cancer stick?" she finally longingly asked of Nick. Her partner gave her a long look before giving her the cold shoulder.

"You should have thought about your addiction before giving it away," Nick sang-song.

Areshia grabbed his arm and tugged on it sharply, pleading, "Please! Just one?"

"Poor thoughtless Serenader. I wish I could share, but I'm down to my last ones. So sorry." He took a drag and exhaled the contents into her face.

Her lip quivered. "But I need it!" The weight in her lap brought her back to the previous subject, and she held up the Bible. "What would Jesus do for a poor, cigarette-less girl?"

"Well, I'm not Jesus so I wouldn't really have any clue, would I?"

The Bible was then chucked aside back into the nightstand, now long forgotten. "But you're a priest."

"Not a very good one."

"A murdering one, at least." The words were harsher than she meant.

A pang shot through his chest at the quip. Nick bristled; "It's for the children." With an icy look he offered the last half of his cigarette to her. "I don't want this anymore." Areshia took it and watched him with a confused look as he crossed over to the door and opened it. "I'm going for a walk."

Guilt wrenched her stomach as he left the room without looking at her. Her fingers gently touched the filter of the cigarette, warm and slightly moist from where it had been perched in Nicholas' mouth. She bit her lip and looked down at her bittersweet prize.

"I don't want it, either…" she mumbled to no one in particular. Uncomfortably she put it to her lips and took a drag. Her sweet addiction.

The streets were void of life. It wasn't that late, though, thus sparking Nick's curiosity, but only briefly. He stepped outside of the hotel, leaning furtively against the sand-worn building. The cooling evening air ruffled his hair and he ran his fingers back through them.

He knew she hadn't meant to offend him, but it was too harsh to consume for the night. She was quickly becoming that nagging voice in the back of his head, the voice that reasoned and assertively told him that the children were not an excuse – murder was murder, regardless of the excuse. He knew that! Of course he knew that! But it was easier on his palate when he didn't think about it. Everything was easier when it was out of his mind.

Alcohol. He needed alcohol. Any kind of liquor would do, but he had to escape. The sour taste of his past began to creep into his mouth. His heart beat a little faster. Images began flashing through his mind and he feebly tried to push them back, clasping a hand to his face. A cold sweat broke out as terrible screams rang throughout his brain, weeping boyish cries, begging for an end to which there was none in sight. The sting of hot breath was against his ear; he could feel him. Feel his hands tracing his innocence, robbing him of his dignity, and the silent screams grew louder and louder and shriller and the scalding tears burned his terrified eyes –

It was then that Nick realized they were real. His body snapped to attention, every muscle and tendon within his tall, gangly form tensing. His insides iced over. Those screams were alarmingly close and horribly familiar. He knew that cry. A child's sob.

Without further thought, he swung back into the hotel, his hand reaching into his jacket for his dear handgun. Long fingers twisted around the cold metal. His pulse fluttered on his tongue as he clambered up the stairs, ears perked for the whereabouts of the sound.

A darkened hallway. Nicholas silently traipsed down it, listening carefully for the door that held the tormented squeals. Movement was heard behind a door. Nick froze and stared at the cheerless wood, the brass numbers reflecting his wide-eyed morbid gaze. Soft crying drifted from under the door. His fingers tightened around the gun, but he was suddenly uneasy, unsure of whether this was what his imagination led him to believe –

But his fears were soon confirmed when he heard that familiar breathing. That terrible, pulsating hot breath that reeked of whiskey and lust. He could feel the dribble running down his cheek.

Rage flooded all of his senses and his heart began hammering in his chest as the adrenaline surged through his veins. Without any coherent thoughts left in his reeling brain, Nick kicked down the door and aimed his gun at the larger figure of the two. The man was positioned above the boy, sweat causing his button down shirt to soak through, making every drip of perspiration visible from under his clothing. The boy was quaking violently, hands pinned behind his back crudely. His shirt was missing and his pants were around his ankles.

The man stumbled to his feet and reared on Nicholas, starting breathlessly, "Who the fuck –"

A gunshot was the only response to his question. Blood and brains splattered against the wall above the boy, who hysterically screamed. The body slumped to the ground, his fingers and toes twitching violently. The trigger had always been strangely easy to pull, but tonight it seemed almost weightless. His trigger finger continued to pull on it, emptying the shots into the piece of shit lying before him. Nicholas could not see past his livid tunnel vision. The body jerked satisfyingly as the shells hit the floor with strangely contrasting quiet "chinks". The loud explosions of the gun, which seemed to echo throughout the room painfully slow, drowned the boy's screams and cries out.

A small figure appeared in the doorway, breathless. Areshia was visibly startled at the carnage. She couldn't pry herself away from the doorway, her eyes locked on the bizarre image. Finally she tore herself away from the door, running up behind him and grabbing his arm. It writhed beneath her grip with every kickback of the gun.

"He's dead, Nicholas! He's dead! Enough!" she shouted over the noise. The sudden silence that followed the last bullet was equally frightening. Nick's hazel eyes remained locked on the now pulverized figure, meat and blood sprayed all about him in a fine mist. A pool was quickly forming under the corpse and beginning to meet the toes of Nick's shoes. His hand continued to dry heave the trigger, the only noise now being the boy's silent gasps and the hollow clicking of the weapon in her partner's hand.

"He's gone, Nicholas, he's gone, he won't hurt anyone anymore…" she whispered. Her hand remained tightly clasping his forearm and she slowly guided it to his side, his finger finally ceasing the unconscious choking.

His thoughts were an alarming overload of images and sounds. An eerie calm was about him, yet his mind continued to rage within the walls of his head. Confusion began to creep on him and his figure completely tensed. Was it him again? Hadn't he killed him years before at the tender age of seven? Was he truly dead or was he surrounding him, suffocating him with that horrible stench of alcohol, sickeningly sweet against his face, laughing at his futile efforts?

A crowd had formed around the door at that point. Fearful inhabitants had finally flooded from their rooms at the sound of gunshots. They peered in through the doorway, completely horrified at the savage display of murder. Death hung hot and heavy in the room, breathing down their necks. A couple of the spectators gasped, another cried out helplessly for police. Nicholas didn't notice them. Areshia stared up at him, a cold sweat of her own breaking out on her face. He began to tremble just the slightest bit. Her eyebrows knit once again with worry.

"Nicholas." Not a question, but a word, a reassurance that he had indeed murdered the man who had been molesting the child.

A woman worked her way through the crowd, swooping in on the child and embracing him close to her breast. He was trembling, his mouth working open and shut like a dying animal. He wanted to scream, to cry, to weep for his mother, but no words found their way out of the sickening knot in his throat. He vomited profusely on the floor and then began to silently weep. The woman led him out, shrouding him in her shawl.

The crying seemed to snap Nick back to reality. He tenderly wrenched his arm from Areshia's grip and turned silently to the door. He walked out, his gun still held tightly within his hand now dimpled with white knuckles. The crowd parted silently. Nobody made any effort to stop him. They watched him walk down the opposite end of the hall the child had been led down, followed by a few cooing women and angry men. His dark figure disappeared quickly down the stairs.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the group as Areshia briskly pushed her way past the crowd that was now beginning to pour in through the door. A couple of inquiring minds tried to stop her yet she worked past them and trotted down the stairs after her partner.

He was walking down the street when she spotted him. Areshia quickly ran after him, finally catching up to the still mentally unavailable man.

"Wolfwood, what the hell happened!" she gasped angrily.

The bitter aftertaste of anger clung heavily to his throat, an unidentifiable pain throbbing in his gut. "What the fuck do you think happened?" he hissed. Nick stopped and whirled on her, motioning with his gun, "That piece of shit was torturing that kid!"

"Fuck, Wolfwood! His brains are smeared from here to December!"

"He was molesting him! He was going to rape him! He had his goddamn pants around his ankles! I could smell the booze from the hallway!" The usual coolness of his voice was rapidly melting away into a shrewd hysterical mess. His heart thrummed against his teeth and his breath had quickened.

"Do you understand how psychologically damaged that boy is going to be now? After a display like that! Where were your senses!" she cried out, her guts wrenching within. She sympathized him, but her overwhelming guilt for the psyche of the child was too much to bear.

Nick's eyes grew into saucers as he bellowed, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW! Nothing! You know nothing about the pain, the nightmares, the breathing! That infernal BREATHING!" His voice suddenly lowered as he approached her, his face inches away from hers. Hazel eyes flashed dangerously as he whispered, "That man had no right to live."

She stared up at him. Her eyes didn't waver although she was somewhat startled at his outburst. Quietly she spoke. "I know, Nicholas." Her voice matched his hoarse whisper. "I know."

Neither of them moved for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for years. The anger was beginning to fade from Nick, but a harrowing despair was beginning to consume him. Sadness overwhelmed his senses. He finally stood up straight and gazed at his partner. She coolly returned it, the only break in the icy façade being the visible concern in her eyes. She reached for his gun, yet he snatched it away, thrusting it within his clothing again. It was hot against his skin.

It was uncomfortable. Uncertainty was beginning to dawn upon the two.

"Should we go back?" Areshia delicately questioned.

"…Our stuff is back there. The choice seems obvious."

"That doesn't make it the favorable one to take."

He scowled and snapped, "Then what do you suggest we do?"

The sadness welling up within the priest was thick enough to touch. She hated it. Areshia sighed. "Well, we can't just waltz back now. We should wait until it's quieted down in a few hours. I imagine the entire sheriff's department will be swarming, and that's the last thing we need." Her body longed for sleep desperately, but her partner had somehow found the loophole that would prevent it from getting that.

Nick's body began to calm down a bit. He looked at her, studying her body language. Eventually he nodded in agreement. He couldn't go back to the hotel if he tried now. It was just the scene of a new nightmare.

"Well, where should we go?" Areshia asked.

"Drinking," he sighed. "Lots of drinking."

They ventured down the street lethargically.


End file.
